


Forever Is But a Scream

by Ange_de_la_Mort



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Timelines, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Original Character(s), Rape, Witty Banter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-18 07:52:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2340785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ange_de_la_Mort/pseuds/Ange_de_la_Mort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years after the events of Phantom Planet, Vlad returns. Which would be problematic enough even without piercing a hole into the space-time continuum. Sadly, though, that happens and makes sure that old enemies can blaze a trail through different dimensions and times in order to rule the world. Or rather, all of them. Only armed with a Thermos, their own powers and a tiny bit of help from Clockwork, Danny and Vlad have to confront their greatest fears, overcome old and new traumatic experiences and occasionally try to stay alive. With and without a relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In collaboration with the lovely Vauvenal.

_I'd never thought that space could be this lonely.  
  
_ Enclosed by eternal darkness, imprisoned between unconsciousness and the final remainders of something resembling a sense of being alive, he existed. He, the shadow of a man who had only himself to blame for losing his life. He, who had wanted to rule the world, when he hadn't even been able to rule over himself and his existence. He, who had tried to detach himself from his own humanity, from his human half, but had fallen victim to his own stupid emotions.  
  
His whole life he'd believed to be lonely, abandoned and alone - however, only in these last ... (yes, what exactly? Days? Years? Centuries?) _moments_ he'd learnt the true meaning of loneliness. Now, there was nobody and nothing, except for the pain that had followed him into his unwanted exile like a loyal servant would follow his master. The pain that fed on his body, devoured his mind and everything that might be left of his soul; and he couldn't do anything about it, couldn't protect himself, was helplessly locked in between rock and eternal emptiness. Couldn't escape his thoughts, his memories of those who had left him and those who had never belonged to him at all.  
  
He had been stupid, so very stupid.  
  
A jolt ran through his body, through his lithic grave that he had dug himself; pain scorched his body, liquid fire burned him from within.  
  
And he lost consciousness.  
  
-  
  
Amity Park. A town like any other - and at the same time something very special. Idyllic, calm and movie-set lovely. Unless it was haunted by ghosts. Or asteroids. Or vengeful college friends.  
  
Or - oh - like right now. When it was haunted by a meteorite. A tiny thing, to be honest, that only held a fraction of the diameter of this certain Disasteroid that had threatened Earth five years ago. And, _astoundingly coincidentally_ , it was a fraction of exactly this asteroid, shrunken while entering the atmosphere, now only measuring a few cubic metres.  
  
It was strange, as if by a wonder that nobody expected it, that there were no curious gawkers, waiting in a safe distance, close but not too close to the crash site, in order to - later - tell their children and relatives and everyone who didn't want to hear it about having seen this once-in-a-lifetime event. But maybe they were too busy telling everyone the story of five years ago; the story of he boy who had saved them all.  
  
Maybe the gawkers were absent for the same reason the government's normally obligatory welcoming committee - possessed with observing every bit of possibly alien life, drawn to the crater like flies to honey, like vultures searching for their prey - was: Nobody new about the meteorite, nobody was expecting the impact.  
  
Maybe that was _astoundingly coincidentally_ , too. Most likely, though, it was fate.  
  
The meteorite, the fireball, collided with the ground, impacting with an ear-splitting bang. Rock and dirt sprayed in all directions when the greenish glowing rock dug its way into the ground and left a deep crater, a fuming hole. Upon hitting the ground, the rock from outer space burst and uncovered what - no, _who_ \- it had hidden, imprisoned and buried inside.  
  
-  
  
As he opened his eyes, he saw colours and sunlight, so bright that it hurt him, that he had to close his eyes again, which - after all this time he'd spent in darkness and obscurity - cost him an endless amount of strength. A wave of noise crashed over him, hurt his ears that had not heard anything except his own heartbeat for _so long_. He moved muscles and limbs that had been motionless for such a long time; first his fingers, then his arms, leaning on them, staggering to his feet. These unaccustomed movements made him break out in cold sweat, made him clench his teeth.  
  
He changed. Turquoise skin turned almost sickly pale, black hair became grey. Blue eyes opened again, and then, then Vlad Masters breathed for the first time in eternity.  
  
Only to be overwhelmed by the impressions of his new old life and be welcomed by the darkness again as he fainted one more time.


	2. Chapter 2

When he awoke, he was lying face first in dust and ashes, and all that was left of his dignity. His eyelids fluttered, his fingers were digging into the ground as he tried to get back in control over his body. He stretched his limbs, took a deep breath – and coughed, swallowing dust and dirt.   
  
He had to stay calm, he told himself again and again. Of course it would be very easy and almost as appropriate to panic (although he should be used to it by now, to slip from one completely life-changing situation into the next, a cruel voice hidden somewhere the farthest corners of his mind whispered, a voice he'd love to strangle if only he'd be able to touch it), but he forced himself to remain calm, breathe deeply, in and out, forced himself to think. He was alive, against all odds. Now it came down to what he made of it.   
  
While, _right now_ , it rather mattered to get to his feet so that he could do anything, could take care of it in order to win back his life (after all, he assumed that nothing was left of his company, his wealth and _power_ ). Once again he tensed his muscles, tried to get to his feet once more, but failed, slumped back to the ground.   
  
_Well then_ , he thought and smiled a bitter smile. _Maybe in five minute, then. There's no need to rush._  
  
-  
  
Sadly, there absolutely was a need to rush.  
For the simple reason that Vlad's unintentional-but-hoped-for arrival had no longer gone unnoticed.   
  
A car was approaching, a jeep, which slowly but surely left the paved road behind and found its way into the open field. The two drivers were wearing white suits and dark, reflecting sunglasses, behind which their eyes could not be seen. Both had weapons on their belts - just a precaution, they did not expect an attack. No one would dare to do anything to the Guys in White. After all, they were the government (a very small part, though, hiding behind bureaucratic fuss, hiding its true intentions, while acting quite illegally at times, but, _still_ , a part of the government. Which meant they would not hesitate to shoot first and ask questions later ... if anyone was still alive to give them the answers they wanted to get).   
  
They weren't actually keen on doing and outdoor job, much less one with an uncertain extent; and so one if them - a black, muscular man with a bald head called Archer – broke the silence when he asked: "Do you have any idea what's going on?"   
  
His colleague - Miller, the exact opposite of Archer, with pale skin and thick blond hair, a man who seemed so much more fragile next to his coworker - just shrugged his shoulders, never taking his eyes off the road. "What are you talking about?"   
  
Archer crossed one of his massively muscular legs over the other and tapped his fingertips audibly on his knee. "The whole job here. Something stinks to high heaven."   
  
"Well, it's not me."   
  
"You know what I mean."   
  
"No. You can be a bit more precise, if it's not asking too much."   
  
So Archer counted on his fingers. "Firstly, a thing from space that leaves a crater one might assume we should have noticed that earlier, instead of waiting until one of these schnooks calls us to report that thing. Secondly: A job like this one normally consists of more than two people. What's that supposed to mean? Are we gonna be cannon fodder or something?"  
  
"The doc says it's nothing at all. A small crash. Space junk, nothing more."   
  
"The doc's acted like he's nuts in the last few years, why are we still taking his oders?!" Archer stuck out his right ring finger; another point of his list to be addressed. "I've never seen the old bastard that gloomy and gone postal at the same time."   
  
Another shrug. "He's just stressed out."   
  
"We all are."   
  
Miller sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, as long as the old man pays the bills, _I_ won't be the one complaining. And you should shut the hell up, too. Or would you rather want to stay in the headquarters and do paperwork?"   
  
"No, but ..."   
  
"Then stop whining!" They stayed silent once more, at least for a few minutes until Miller sighed again and then said: "You should be glad that something happened. Something that's not a drunken idiot doing crop circles at night and calling us because he'd forgotten that was his fault, so it must've totally been aliens."  
  
"Mhh."   
  
Miller raised his eyebrows, squinted under his glasses to his colleague. "Don't say you're angry at me now."   
  
"No, but ..." Silence. A small shake of his head. "Sometimes I think the Doc doesn't give a crap about science. Not only, I mean. Sometimes I think he's doing all that for personal reasons."  
  
Again they were silent, the only sound to be heard was the hum of the engine. Then, Miller said: "You may be more right than you think. Listen, I know you haven't been here that long, that's why you still ask stupid questions instead of doing what you're getting paid for. And that's why you don't know that story from about thirty years ago when-” He trailed off and stared straight ahead, half confused, half in shock. “Fuck, man, look at that!”  
  
\-   
  
He'd heard the car from afar, the sound echoing in his ears as he gritted his teeth, as he told himself again and again that he had to get out of here. No matter who was driving that car, he would not be a _friend_ (he didn't have any friends, not anymore, and he only had himself to blame for that, _congratulations_ ). He had to get away, and he had to go fast, _fast_ , before anyone could see him.   
  
It took some effort but finally he transformed (no noticeable flash of light lit up the area, it was more like the light was missing for a moment, like a flash of darkness dimmed the environment for the fraction of a second) and breathed a sigh of relief when he could watch his body turn transparent, invisible, undetectable.   
  
The doors of the car were noisily closed, and Vlad could hear two men talking, picking up some scraps of their conversation ("Unbelievable!" And "Have you seen anything like that before?" And "What the hell is this stuff?").   
  
Vlad raised his head, leaning on his hands and knees and turned his gaze in the direction of the two men. He flinched as he saw the white suits. And then he flinched again, when he saw what one of them - the blonde man who had yet to grow into his suit - held in his hand.   
  
"The radar," the blond man said right then, playing around with a small beeping device, "has never acted this fucked-up before. This stuff is some crazy shit. Really, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that the must be a whole horde of ghosts hanging out around here. Otherwise I couldn't explain this kind of data. "  
  
Haha. Yes. Great. That was his cue telling him to run away quickly. Very quickly.   
  
"Well I do not see any ghosts."   
  
" _Sure_ you don't, dude! Ghosts are invisible, otherwise they would not be ghosts! Tell me, how long did you say that you're working for our company? Five minutes or what?"   
  
"No, but ..."   
  
Some things, Vlad found out, couldn't be unlearned. Breathing. Cycling. Feeling annoyed by people who stood in his way and/or were behaving like idiots. And of course using his own ghost powers to teleport to another place – _somewhere, anywhere where it might safe._  
  
It wasn't like he could be very picky right now.   
  
\-   
  
Still, he felt nothing but confusion when – after a moment that didn't take longer than the blink of an eye – he reappeared where he wouldn't have expected to feel safe at all. Vlad looked at the Fentons' house almost nostalgically, and then quickly shook his head, laughed at himself, bitter and humorless.   
  
Why was he even surprised? Whenever something had gone wrong in his life, the Fentons had always taken part in the cirumstances that had ruined him, after all. But still ...   
  
Scoffing, he repressed all sentimentality and came closer, reaching out for the doorknob, then hesitated. Ringing ... was out of the question. Should they see him, he would certainly experience the beating of his life (he deserved it, partially, but only because he had not taken the time to think twice about how to put kind of megalomanical plans for world domination into action). Also, if he simply walked into the house, one of these stupid anti-ghost devices could trigger and be set in motion, he could be discovered and then get the beating of his life.   
  
Well, if that wasn't tempting ...   
  
However, since he could hardly stand around all day, he had to take the risk without much of a choice. He put a hand on the wood of the door and waited, slowly counting to three, and – when eyerything stayed quiet - slipped through the closed door into the house.   
  
It did not look much different than before. Still as clean (certainly Jack couldn't be credited for that) and cleaned up (and for that Jack could absolutely not be credited at all) as before. Quieter, however. And somehow empty. Why it seemed that way, he could not say. He also didn't have a lot of time to take some looks around, to understand why he felt that way. Right now, the only thing that mattered was finding a safe place to hide and to fully regain his strength so he could plan his next steps.   
  
His gaze fell on a calendar, which stood on a side table in the hallway. 'Call Danny' was written there in capital letters and decorated with five exclamation points (Vlad automatically grimaced at this desecration of grammar), next to it was a strategically placed address-book. Apparently the house felt emptier than before, because at least one family member had moved out.   
  
Which ... was actually a very good idea. Not moving out, no. To contact Daniel. Daniel would understand him, would not send him away. They were the only two of their kind, after all, despite what had happened. Daniel would ... at least talk to him and offer him some kind of shelter. ... maybe. Hopefully.   
  
So he memorized the address and went on his way.  
  
-  
  
Shortly afterwards he stood in front of another house. A smaller one. A newer one that seemed to be much more looked after. It even had a second floor, which meant that Daniel seemed quite wealthy. Maybe he had a well-paid job. Or maybe he had a sponsor, someone who'd taken him under their wing, just like Vlad would have done if the boy had been more cooperative and reasonable.   
  
Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair and straightened his clothes - a good first impression was necessary right now. This time, he rang. Because he was a civilized man. And because it wouldn't do to just surprise the boy like that.  
  
As the door opened, he automatically lowered his gaze a bit. After all, Daniel had always been a lot smaller than -  
  
He blinked and looked a little higher, confused to be at eye level with a young man who was quite obviously Daniel ... who had even more obviously grown up.  
  
'Oh,' he said; and 'Oh,' Daniel said as well.  
  
And then he shut the door in Vlad's face.


End file.
